The Unmentioned Fourth Task
by At Some Actor's West Side Loft
Summary: As a champion, Harry must find a date for the Yule Ball. What happens if he asks Hermione, instead of Ron? Could be a one shot, could develop further. Reviews are like butterbeer-heartwarming.
1. An Early Disturbance

"WAKEY, WAKEY, LITTLE LIONS!" Peeves zoomed around the Gryffindor common room, grinning. Why, the weekend had barely begun, and he was already wreaking havoc on Hogwarts! Normally he had to wait for the ickle twerps to get up and come outside their common rooms, but someone had kindly left the portrait of the Fat Lady open for him. After hearing Filch's tired cry of "Peeves! I'll get you kicked out this place for that racket," he flipped upside down and barreled back out the room.

While most Gryffindors were trying to get back to sleep, Harry wiped his hot forehead. Peeves had snapped him out of a nightmare. Voldemort had been planning something, something involving…Crouch? He frowned. No way did that make sense, not with how strong Mr. Crouch's vendetta against anything even remotely related to dark magic ran. He rubbed the pained sleep out of his eyes and decided to nick some food from the kitchen. After receiving a plastic container stuffed to the brim with rolls, muffins, donuts, and other breakfast treats, he returned to the common room to do a distinctly "not Harry" thing: Homework on a Saturday at 8:30 A.M.

"_Still," _he thought wearily, "_Professor Binns' essay on "The Great Goblin Rights' Case of 1593" will probably be a piece of cake compared to solving that egg. Or finding a date for the Yule Ball." _Having been shot down by Cho the day before, Harry had literally no ideas who to ask now. He'd thought about seeking out Katie Bell, thinking she'd be good company, but one of Fred or George had already asked her. He knew that quite a few girls wanted to go with him-Like he couldn't notice how conversations about the ball magically filled the air when certain people spotted him. But those types of girls only wanted to go with him because he was Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. He just wanted to go, get the dancing over with, and have a good time (okay, maybe aiming for "not miserable" was a tad more realistic). He pushed the issue to the back of his mind, allowing himself to be bored senseless for the next half hour as he scribbled nonsense about how the case of Eldrick the Excitable was a setback in the goblins' quest for increased rights.

The desolate common room gained a few tired, yawning souls, then surrendered them to the dining hall for breakfast. Ron had sleepwalked down there around 9:15, and Hermione passed through a bit after him.

"Coming to breakfast?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "No, thanks. Trying to get some work done," he answered.

"Well, I'll be. Choosing studies over food at this hour? Do I need to fetch Madam Pomfrey?" she joked.

"Not exactly. I've got a few things here." He grinned and slid the Tupperware treasure chest out from under the couch, then explained the circumstances that had led him to acquire it in the first place.

"That Peeves. I thought I heard a bit of a racket this morning." She appreciatively inhaled the scent of baked goods. "Would you mind sharing?"

"Nah, go for it." She grabbed a roll and a pastry.

"Oh, we can have a homework party while everyone's at breakfast. We'll be so productive!" She smiled dreamily at the prospect of essay writing, then dashed back to her dormitory to retrieve her books, some parchment, and a quill.

Harry chuckled, bemused by his friend's love of academics. No one else could ever get _that _excited about homework. He imagined Hermione gleaned almost as much enjoyment out of the activity as he did Quidditch.

"_Speaking of Hermione…" _A stray thought of the Yule Ball drifted back to him, his thoughts acting as an _Accio _spell.

"_What, ask her? No!" _The idea was off putting, like the concept of a mean spirited Dobby or a rule breaking Percy. Still, it made at least a bit of sense.

Ron returned to the common room shortly after she did. "What are you two doing?"

"Homework," Hermione smiled brightly. "Want to join?"

"What, this early on a Saturday?" He pulled a face and backed away from the pair as if they were surrounded by a minefield of Dungbombs. "No thanks. Gonna give Seamus a go at wizard chess." He shifted uncomfortably, hands jammed in his pockets, then blurted at Harry, "You find a date yet?"

"No luck. You?"

"Nope." He scowled. "It's hard enough finding a good looking girl-" Hermione gave an almost imperceptible "hmpfh," but Harry privately found Ron's assessment to be painfully accurate- "And then, even if you manage to do that, you have to get them alone to ask them."

"Yeah." He shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "Guess we'll just have to do it, though."

"Yep. Hey, what do you say to this: How about we make absolutely sure to get dates by the end of the weekend at the very latest?" Ron suggested.

"Alright," Harry agreed.

Ron then went off to challenge Seamus, leaving only two in the common room once again.

"_Better do it now." _Harry glanced around, making sure the coast was clear. "Hermione?"

Her hand snapped out, fingers curled. It was a reflex she'd developed over the past three years whenever she was doing homework with either one of her friends and that _"I don't want to ask you for something, but I really need to" _voice came up. He stared.

"Oh, sorry. It's just…habit. I've gotten pretty used to looking over your and Ron's assignments whenever you say my name with that tone." She blushed. "What is it?"

"Will you go?" he blurted, nerves erasing the back half of the question. He gulped and pressed awkwardly forward. "To the ball? With me? Like, just friends, cause…you're not…it's just-

"Since Cho's going with Cedric, you don't want to go with someone who'll gawp at your scar all night, you want to go with a friend who actually knows you." An expert summary of his dilemma.

He ran through a mental checklist of his earlier thoughts. "Err…yeah. How'd you know all that?"

She sighed. "Harry, boys are easier to read than books. You are simple creatures."

"_Well, I don't think I'm THAT simple…" _a voice in his head argued.

She pierced him with a steely McGonagall look that said, _"No, even you are not exempt from this particular set of rules, Mr. Potter."_

"Right." He blundered on. "Cause if you don't, or you're waiting for someone else to ask, that's…that's good, too, it's fine…"

Another sigh, this one steeped in pity. _"Tact. Noun. Definition: A quality that both Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley are severely lacking." _Still, she managed a small smile. "No, it's fine. I'll go with you. I sort of thought Krum would ask me, as we had been talking a bit lately, but then he told me he's got a girl back home. And he didn't think going with me would be fair since…" She blushed, and was glad Harry had the sense to pretend to study a paragraph of his essay until the flush disapparated from her cheeks. "Well, anyway, yes. I'll go with you."

"Alright. Thanks a million," he beamed.


	2. Friends and Feuds

Though Harry and Hermione both fully intended to tell Ron about their going together as soon as possible, their good intentions were bulldozed over by massive amounts of homework that, from their perspective, rather contradicted the Christmas spirit.

"Can't they ever take it easy on us?" Ron grumbled as he failed, again, to transform his top hat into a small rabbit.

"Nope, guess they want us to impress our guests." Harry gritted his teeth. His hat had sprouted whiskers and a nose, but nothing else.

"And why do we have to turn these things into rabbits?" Ron complained, giving the top hat a whack with his wand. "If I wanted a rabbit, I could just go down to Hagrid's garden and snatch up one of those magical ones that's always eating his plants. Kill two birds with one stone." He glowered at Hermione's rabbit. She frowned.

"It still has a little black streak on its chin where the brim used to be, I do hope I can get rid of that the next go…"

Harry gave an exasperated sigh as Transfiguration wrapped up. "At least you actually _have _a rabbit, Hermione."

McGonagall flashed a rare smile. "20 points to Gryffindor for Miss Granger's exceptional work. Class dismissed!" Everyone split up, going their separate ways. Hermione went to-of course-the library, while Harry and Ron began making their way back to the Gryffindor common room. Professor McGonagall called, "Also, students, don't forget that the Yule Ball is just a bit more than a week from today. Don't dally too long trying to find a date."

"The Yule Ball!" Ron groaned. "I completely forgot. You find a date yet, Harry?"

"Err…yeah."

"Who? You know if she has a friend I could go with?"

"Hermione."

Ron stopped dead in the hall, nearly knocking over a poor second year who'd been walking behind him. "You're going with Hermione?" he repeated.

"Yeah," he nodded, resisting the urge to add _"What's it to you?"_ I mean, I'd have rather gone with Cho, but that didn't work out, so I figured-"

"Why didn't you tell me?" his friend cut in. "When did you ask her?"

"Er…Couple weeks ago. It's not like I was planning on it," Harry answered defiantly, defending himself from the bite in Ron's voice.

"Right. Sure." Ron gave him the strangled grin, the same one that had taken over his face when Harry said he didn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire. "Well. Have fun, mate," he said shortly, then abruptly turned back away from the common room and stalked off to the Great Hall, his gaze burning a hole in the maroon carpet.

"Ron!" He called after him. The redhead didn't look back.

"_Well, so much for some peace and quiet before Potions_._" _Harry dropped his books off in his room and dashed off to the library. He found Hermione reading up on elf rights and trying to magically buffer a smudge out of some kind of badge. She looked up from her book at his arrival and smiled.

"Hey. I thought you went back to the common room."

"I did. Figured I'd warn you that Ron's going to be in a foul mood. I just told him that we're going to the ball together."

"Oh, we never did tell him, did we?" she sighed. "Wait, does he think we're going as…a couple?"

"Hermione, Ron can be pretty thick, but I don't think he's _that _thick."

She laughed and slapped him on the arm, grinning. "Harry Potter, you are terrible." Her face clouded again. "So, Ron was figuring he could take me? Just wait til the last minute cause God knows I could _never _get a date."

It was Harry's turn to laugh. "Something like that, yeah."

"Well, serves him right!"

Harry's gaze fell to the books that were scattered around the table. "Er…what are you working on?"

"Spew!"

"Uh…sorry, come again?"

"Oh, right, you don't know the acronym. I'm forming the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare," she replied proudly. "S.P.E.W. for short. I intend to better inform Hogwarts of the fact that slave labor more or less keeps this place running."

He hated to squash her enthusiasm, but… "Hermione, most house elves like being enslaved."

"Only because they don't know any better," she answered hotly. "Look at Dobby! He's free, he's happy."

He sighed. "Dobby's a bit eccentric." More to shut Hermione up than anything else, Harry took one of the badges. As he was about to leave, he noticed a small purple book hidden among the larger texts. "What's that?" He pointed.

Hermione went beet red. "Nothing, nothing, just a little something I thought I'd look at…"

He pulled it free from the pile and murmured the name of the title. "_A Witch's Guide to Ballroom Dancing." _She snatched it back, still scarlet.

He tried to keep from laughing, but couldn't. "You're really reading up on how to go to a ball?"

"Well, it's not like I've been before, and it's been really helpful," she answered, hands on her hips. "I'm sure I saw a companion book for wizards, too, Harry. It probably wouldn't hurt for you to look through it…"

"What, you think I can't dance?" He asked indignantly. True, he didn't particularly _like _dancing, but neither would you if you'd had to dance with Aunt Marge at some stupid Dursley's wedding reception. He wasn't a great dancer, but he wasn't completely hopeless either.

The smirk that played on Hermione's face said she had other thoughts. "I'm sorry, Harry, truly. But the idea of you going to a ball?" She bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"Well, on the bright side of your total lack of faith in me, I've got no expectations." She cracked up, trying to squeeze another apology in as she caught her breath. He waved it off. "It's fine, don't worry. Look, I've got to get to Potions. See you at dinner?" Still smiling.

"Yeah." He waved-since when did he do that with Hermione?-and left, glad something fun had popped up before torture-er, Potions class-started.


	3. A Not So Dangerous Adventure

As Harry had expected, Ron was less than amicable during Potions class. The two of them sat together, of course, to show some Gryffindor solidarity against a room stuffed with Slytherins. However, their team effort to prepare a Calming Draught was derailed by a rather testy, whispered conversation, brought on by Ron's incessant muttering of phrases like "_I might've asked her" _and "_Could've told me earlier."_

Harry gave him a look. "Okay, Ron. Yeah, we should've told you earlier. Sorry." His voice remained bitter. He couldn't help being miffed by the fact that his friend had thought he was just _entitled _to go with Hermione.

"Yeah, well, doesn't help me now, does it?" he remarked snidely. "Still don't have a date to this damn thing."

"You were the one who said we should find dates straight away!" Harry retorted. "How was I s'pose to know you wanted to go with Hermione?"

A tinge of pink crawled up Ron's ears. "I dunno if I really wanted to go with her," he muttered as he dropped a unicorn hair in the potion. "Just kind of needed someone to go with, like we were saying, right?" He frowned. "That IS why you asked Hermione, isn't it? Cause you fancy Cho, don't you?" Ron's questions came out as more of a statement. He was trying to reassure himself that this indeed was true.

"Yeah, course," Harry lied after a stretched out pause. He wasn't thinking of the Yule Ball as a date or anything, but he'd warmed up to the idea of going with Hermione. He was actually rather looking forward to the previously dreaded event. At least they'd have a laugh together, seeing the ridiculous outfits that some girls would be sporting. And she didn't have too many expectations for his dancing. "_Really, asking Hermione wasn't a bad idea." _Unfortunately, Ron had noticed the delay in Harry's answer, leapt to his own conclusions about why exactly he'd asked Hermione to the ball, and lapsed into a stone faced silence for the rest of the class. Later on in the day, though, his mood changed (Harry suspected it had something to do with getting Padma Patil as his date), and he and Harry were back on good terms again.

Hermione, however, was much less forgiving, choosing to stare daggers at Ron as the three of them sat down for dinner.

"'Ermynee, I said I wa 'orry," he articulated around a mouthful of chicken parmesan.

Her nostrils flared. "That was impressively disgusting, wasn't it, Harry?"

He quickly gulped some water down to avoid playing a role in their fight.

Ron gave a huge swallow, then said, "Sorry. Really. Now, Hermione Granger, can you please forgive this ginger prat for being a complete and total moron?" Every once in a while, it was easy to tell Ron was related to Fred and George.

She gave a small smile. "Alright. Only cause you said please, though." Ron grinned.

"Thanks." He went off in search of the biggest piece of chocolate cake at the Gryffindor table.

"So, things are back to normal, then."

"Yes," Harry agreed.

"_And you don't like that all that much, do you?" _a voice vibrant with jealousy whispered in his head.

"_Course I do! Why wouldn't I want us all to be back on good terms?" _he argued.

"_Well…what if you were all on good terms AND you still had Hermione to yourself?"_

He shook his head, hoping that it would jar the inappropriate thought out of his mind. And yet, after the final class before break came and went, Harry found himself alone with Hermione. Ron was stuck in the library, just starting the goblin essay for Binns that the two of them had nearly completed.

"It's break…don't you wanna do something fun?" Harry asked.

"Well, yeah, but I'm not sure what," Hermione answered.

"We could always go to the library, find a nice book to read," he teased.

"Shut up," she laughed. "No, even I want a break from reading."

A brilliant idea struck the black haired boy. "Be back in a sec. Grab a coat, I've got a fun surprise for us."

"_What on earth is he doing?" _she wondered. Still, she trusted Harry, so she went along with his instructions. "Close your eyes," he called as he descended the stairs. She did. He grabbed her hand. "Come with me."

She shivered as he led her to the Quidditch field.

"Are we going to Hagrid's?" she asked, shivering.

"Maybe, maybe not."

"Stop," she commanded. She pulled out her wand and tapped the top of his head. It felt like someone was combing hot water into his hair. The sensation descended down his body.

"What was that?"

"Warming spell," she answered, applying it to herself.

"You can cast with your eyes closed? You are brilliant." She blushed.

At last, they'd reached their destination: the Quidditch pitch.

"I figured, you love learning so much, why not teach you something new? Today, you're getting a lesson in how to fly," he told her, smiling, hoping she couldn't detect the worry in his mind: _"Please don't hate this idea, please don't-"_

"Alright," she agreed. He winced at the hesitation. "Can I just be a passenger for now, though? I trust you more than I trust myself on a broom, you're an amazing flier."

"Sure." They walked out to the pitch, holding hands- "_Just to keep them warm,_" they told themselves. Hermione gazed into Harry's face. "You've really missed this place, haven't you?"

"Yep. It's a nice getaway from everything else, you know?" He answered quietly.

"I imagine it is." She looked down at the broom. "So, are you going to teach me to fly or not?"

He grinned. "You really want to learn?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then." He stuck a hand out over the Firebolt. "Up!"

He flew slowly at first, not wanting to make Hermione too nervous. Her voice eventually piped up. "I'm not some fragile old woman. I've flown on a hippogriff with you, for God's sake. You can go a bit faster!"

"If you're sure." He gripped the broom handle a bit tighter, zooming around the pitch.

"How d'you do this?" she murmured, tightening her grip around his waist. "You make it seem so easy. I can hardly fly to save my life."

"Hey, you aren't that bad." He wanted to look into that face, reassure her, give her more than just words, but flying and not looking at anything but Hermione's face was a recipe for disaster. "Remember first year, the room with the winged keys? You and Ron were a big help."

"I was lucky I didn't fall off that broom," she laughed.

He continued, "You have to think about what you want to do. It sounds stupid, but the broom knows when you're in control." They dipped a bit. "See, like there, I _thought _about going down before I actually nudged the handle down."

"I see," she nodded. He laughed. _"Trust Hermione to sound like she's in a proper lesson right now." _

"Can you do that one thing that the Seekers did at the World Cup?" she asked.

"What thing?"

"The Wonky Faint."

"It's the-" For once, he didn't feel like correcting her. He actually did look back at her now. "You really want me to do that? Sure you'll be alright with it?"

She nodded. He took a deep breath-Hell, he'd never tried it before, and it could go spectacularly wrong-and went into a steep dive. Hermione was too shocked to scream.

"_If I die on a broomstick with Harry Potter, I swear-" _

He yanked the broom up out of the dive, away from the snowy field, at the last possible second. "YEAH!" he shouted triumphantly, punching the air. Next Quidditch match against Slytherin, he was pulling that move out, it would be absolutely delightful to watch Malfoy slam into the ground-

"You could have gotten us killed!" Hermione gasped.

"Or worse, expelled," he replied, green eyes bright with mischief. "Had enough?"

"Yeah, I think so. It's getting colder out here anyway," she observed.

He flew them back to the castle and was about to stop at the door when an idea struck him. He pulled the broom back up.

"Harry, the door and the ground are that way," Hermione pouted, pointing down.

"Yeah, I know, I'm dropping you off a bit closer to home," he answered. "Which window is the one to your dormitory?"

"Err…go up another 3 rows and a bit to the left."

He complied with her request.

"_Alohomora!" _she cried, pointing at the window. He flew in and lowered the broom to floor level.

Harry glanced around the room. "Never been up here."

Hermione slipped off her coat. "Course not, you're not allowed. Not like that matters to you." She took a chance, hoping he'd still want to hold hands. He did. "Won't you _ever _get round to reading _Hogwarts, A History?"_

"Nope, why would I when I've got you?" he grinned.

She groaned. "I'm just a walking encyclopedia to you, am I?" She shivered violently, bits of snow flying out of her hair.

He held her tight-just to keep her warm, of course. "Nope. Not even close."

"Then what am I?" She wiggled in closer and wiped a lonely snowflake away from the edge of his lips.

"You are…" Well, for once in his life, Harry had good luck in a non-life threatening situation, the dormitory was still completely empty. He needed more time to think, and Hermione gave him more time, pulling him into a soft kiss that he didn't know he'd wanted til earlier in the week.

As they separated, the perfect words came to Harry's mind. "Hermione Granger, you are brilliant," he murmured, smiling like a fool as the compliment earned him another kiss.


	4. Visiting the Kitchen

Harry wasn't sure which aftereffect of a Hermione kiss was his favorite: The unfamiliar, warm, almost not there wetness on his lips, the pleasant lightheadedness, or the sense that his heart was racing faster than the Hogwarts Express. He'd quite like to experience all of them again, but the sound of footsteps on the staircase below deprived him of the opportunity.

Hermione reached down, snatched the Firebolt by the handle, and shoved it back into his hands.

"Get out!" she hissed.

Harry gave her one more small peck, hopped on, and zoomed out the open window. He heard a voice in the background ask, "Why's the window open?"

"Oh, I was just sending an owl," Hermione lied.

Harry grinned, and his exuberance led him to perform a series of loop de loops.

"_That was a brilliant kiss," _he thought, recycling the one word that seemed to capture most of his recent thoughts about his friend. _"Absolu-"_

CRACK!

As he was paying no attention as to where he was flying, Harry exited his loop and smashed right into the corner of the roof, nearly falling off his broom in the process. He took a much more direct, celebration free route back to his own room after that.

After he was done changing out of his wet clothes, Ron came back into the room.

"Finally got that damn paper done," he bragged. "Now I don't have to worry about goblins and their stupid wars for a good chunk of time." He frowned when he noticed the sopping wet clothes on the ground. "What've you been up to, mate?"

"Went for a fly around the Quidditch pitch. I hadn't flown in forever. It was nice."

"That's cool," Ron answered quietly. The altercation from earlier in the week was still poisoning the silence. "Look, Harry, I'm sorry I was so stupid about the Yule Ball earlier. It…you couldn't have known I was thinking about asking Hermione, you were right. I was just worried I'd end up being the only one to not get a date. So…I guess we'll try to make the night as fun as possible, then?" he asked, rocking on his heels.

"Yeah, definitely," Harry agreed. An easy grin slid across Ron's face.

"Alright, sounds good. I feel like I owe Hermione more of an apology, too. Where is she, anyway? I'm surprised I didn't see her when I was in the library. Even on breaks, she still loves to go there," he laughed.

"She's in her room."

"_That didn't come out too quickly or anything." _Harry began backtracking. "I think she's there, at least. I mean, she told me she was going there to do…something, something with her house elf thing, maybe."

Ron rolled his eyes. "The house elf freedom fight lives on. She just doesn't get it, does she? Most of them like their lives how they are and Dobby's…well…"

"A nutter?"

"Yeah!" Ron nodded. "You get those weird types in all sorts of families. Charlie knows this bloke who swore off magic once he married a Muggle. Said life like that was much simpler. But not every wizard who fancies a Muggle _wants _to do that, know what I mean?"

"Exactly." Harry grimaced at the thought of trying to convince Hermione to see things from their viewpoint. She was incredibly stubborn.

"I mean, yeah, wizards could probably treat them better, but when it comes to the whole being paid, working like a normal person thing, they really don't like the idea of it," Ron continued. His stomach rumbled. "Speaking of house elves, think they'd mind if we paid them a visit, got something to tide ourselves over before dinner?"

"Nope, I don't think they'd mind at all." Harry followed his friend out of the dormitory and ran smack into Hermione.

"Oh, hello." She and Harry gained a sudden interest in looking at the moving portraits in the common room.

Ron fired off his apology rapidly. "Listen, Hermione. I wanted to really apologize for being such a git lately. I was just stupid, thinking that no one else would ask you to the ball, and then the whole rushing to find a date thing just set me off. So, yeah. Sorry."

She smiled. "Well, thank you, Ronald. I appreciate it."

He met her smile with one of his own. "So, where are you going?"

"Down to the kitchen."

"Same here. You feeling peckish, too?" Ron asked.

"No, I'm going to talk to the house elves about S.P.E.W." She had a few small leaflets tucked under her arm. "They deserve better rights. Think about everything they do for us-"

Ron groaned. "Hermione, will you please give it up? House elves like working! It's just how they are."

She shot him a look. "They only like it because the wizarding world has brainwashed them for its own convenience. Harry, you agree with me, right?"

His thoughts were somewhere else, focused on something that had happened three staircases above where they were now… "Err…sorry, what?"

She sighed. "House elves should have equal rights, shouldn't they?"

"Well…I dunno." He scratched his head. "I guess if they want them…but they always seem so happy, like Ron said." Her eyes narrowed. Parroting Ron had been a bad choice. "Wizards should start treating them better, though," he added, making an effort to placate Hermione. It didn't work.

"Well, I'm surprised _you _think that way, Harry, considering you practically were a house elf yourself before you came to Hogwarts. Doing all the chores, being treated like rubbish. Guess I was wrong to assume you'd have a bit of sympathy for them." She stalked ahead of the two males.

Ron whispered out the side of his mouth, "Geez, she's in a state."

"Yeah. Looks like it's my turn to apologize."

They arrived at the hidden kitchen door well after the speed walking Hermione. She was at Winky's side. The house elf was still distraught over being fired by Mr. Crouch. The pillowcase she wore as a shirt was a wrinkled, stained mess. The pristine white cloth had faded to gray, like snow that lives on the side of the road for too long.

"Winky, you can't worry about Mr. Crouch. He's doing fine without you-and think how he treated you," Hermione patted the creature on the shoulder. "You'll come to love Hogwarts, I'm sure."

"Nooo…Mr. Crouch needs his Winky!" she moaned, jerking away from the girl. "The Winky family has served…only him…only the Crouch family for so long."

"Yes, but…" Winky turned away. Hermione gave a look at the boys, who were enjoying a bit of treacle tart. "Help me!" she hissed.

Harry walked over and pointed his wand at Winky's clothes. _"Scourgify." _The stains vanished. He also grabbed a glass from near the sink, filled it with water, and gave it to the house elf. "Here, drink this, Winky. You'll feel better." He offered her the glass. She gulped it down as quickly as possible, then moved to another bench, away from the pair. Dobby came over to them, shaking his head.

"Dobby thanks Harry Potter and his friend…" He looked up politely with those wide eyes, waiting for a name.

"Hermione," she answered, smiling at his manners.

"Dobby thanks Harry Potter and Hermione for coming to visit. But Winky is not doing so well," he fretted, hanging his head. "Still wanting her old master is Winky. She does not understand that she is free to help others. Dobby worries about her."

"It's too bad the rest of the house elves don't have your attitude, Dobby," Hermione said in a hushed tone. Indeed, everyone else seemed to shun Winky.

"House elves are supposed to work. A house elf who does not work is not respected, miss Hermione. That is the way. Dobby does not follow it, but most of his kind do."

The elves had sensed Hermione's hostility, and soon she, Ron, and Harry found themselves escorted out to the tune of "Must work more" and "Please leave."

"Goodbye," Dobby waved miserably.

"Well…like I said, they just want to work, don't they?" Ron shrugged, taking a bite out of a brownie. "Not much we can do about it, as far as I can tell."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but took advantage of Ron's intense focus on his sweets to slip her hand into Harry's. "Thank you for helping," she mouthed.

"No problem," he whispered. They slid away from one another as Ron suffered a coughing fit, but the tiny bit of added warmth in their hands reminded both Harry and Hermione that in just a few nights, they'd need no excuse to be pressed close together.


	5. Tonight's the Night

_Author's Note: Yes, it's canon that the Yule Ball occurred on Christmas. I'm changing it, for no other reason than this: I imagine everyone would rather have a lazy day to relax, feast and watch "A Christmas Story" (well, not that they have television at Hogwarts, but you get the point). So, in this fic, the Yule Ball is a pre-Christmas celebration. _

_Also, thanks for all the reviews! My mistake in forgetting that the Golden Trio had Potions together. I've marked that down and will edit it at some point._

Christmas Eve had finally arrived. It was difficult to discern what everyone at Hogwarts was looking forward to more: The Yule Ball or Christmas. The day flew by quick as a Snitch. After they used the blissfully empty morning hours to catch up on sleep, Harry, Ron, Fred, and George got into a spirited snowball fight on the grounds during the afternoon. Then it was time for dinner. After a delightful meal, everyone returned to their dormitories to get dressed for the ball.

Harry rather wished he would have gotten the chance to talk to Hermione alone before the ball. He had no idea what her expectations were for the evening after the events that had transpired over the past few days. "_Is this still not a date? Am I going to have to really impress her?" _he fretted as he put on the dark green dress robes Mrs. Weasley had purchased.

"_I'll find out soon enough, I suppose."_

"_Relax," _another part of him chimed in. _"Going to a ball with Hermione CANNOT be worse than facing down a Hungarian Horntail with nothing but a wand and a Firebolt." _He laughed to himself, took another deep breath to calm his nerves, and went down to the Great Hall.

Professor McGonagall caught him by the arm. She attempted, with little success, to flatten his messy hair. She sighed, then said, "Potter, once you and your date are together, please join the other three champions at the front table. You will open the dancing."

"Open the dancing?" he frowned.

"Of course," she nodded vigorously. "It is tradition that the champions and their dates have the first dance, as the Yule Ball is only held during the Triwizard Tournament."

"Alright."

"_Having some warning about that would've been nice," _he thought.

He peeked around oversized dresses, slid between affectionate couples, and tried to avoid treading on people's toes while walking around the dance floor. It seemed he'd gone round the entire perimeter, and there was still no sign of Hermione. He glanced back at the champions' table, thinking she may have gone there. No, there was Fleur talking to Krum, and a gorgeous girl who looked maybe a tiny bit veela-"_one of Fleur's Beauxbatons friends, no doubt," _Harry guessed-standing next to the French girl, and…he did a double take. It was _Hermione_. Just not normal, bushy haired, anxious about homework Hermione. This Hermione had straight hair, pulled back in a simple ponytail. A few stray curls framed her face nicely. She was wearing, no, glowing in a light pink dress, her soft smile matching the dim candlelight of the hall. Harry gave her a small wave and waded through the throng.

"Hello." She gave a silver earring a nervous tug, but was still smiling, nonetheless.

"Hi."

"_Stop staring, everyone's going to think something's wrong with you," _Harry warned himself. He looked up. "Err…you look good. Like, _really _good." He hoped she'd heard the emphasis, the stress, on that first, horribly inadequate word.

She grinned shyly. "Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself."

After giving the normal opening speech about thanking everyone for attending, enjoying the good spirit shown between the different schools, and the like, Dumbledore smiled. "I would like to give a few words specifically about dancing tonight, and they are: Try not. Do, or do not. There is no try." Amidst laughter from Hogwarts students and bewildered looks from those of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, he clapped his hands. "Let the Yule Ball begin!"

Harry and Hermione's first couple dances together were, to put it mildly, an absolute disaster. The two were horribly out of sync, as neither one of them knew the popular songs of The Weird Sisters. To make the situation worse, Harry ended up stepping on her feet more than a few times. Burning red, he evacuated the dance floor as the second song ended and headed for the punch bowl, while Hermione went to change out of her heels into more practical flats.

While there, Harry ran into Krum. "Potter," he grunted-thought it was a reasonably friendly grunt. "I vatched you fly in the First Task. Very impressive."

"Thanks," Harry grinned, hardly able to believe he'd gotten a compliment from Krum on his flying. "I saw you at the World Cup. That Wronski Feint, that was something. And getting the Snitch…" he shook his head.

Krum sighed moodily. "I vould have preferred the victory, but…life goes on. It is only a game." He waved at Fleur, his date, indicating that it was fine for her to dance with Cedric for the next song.

"I'd say that's a victory," Harry nodded at the veela. "But how come you're not…"

"Not as affected by her?" Krum finished the thought. "I took a potion that reduces the effects of the veela. I did not vant to look…" He paused, searching for the right English word, but then gestured at the flock of Hogwarts fourth years who were ogling his date. "Like that."

"Good call."

The pop number ended quickly, and Fleur rejoined Krum. "Ello, Arry." She smiled and shook his hand warmly. He'd clearly proven he was no "leetle keed" to her with how well he'd handled the first task.

"'Lo, Fleur," he nodded, not trusting his mouth to properly form more than simple words in her presence.

"Vell, back to the dance floor," Krum smiled and linked arms with the Beauxbatons student. Just before they entered the sea of dancers, he turned back to Harry. "And Potter, if you do not mind my saying so…" A roguish grin broke out across his normally dour face. For once, he actually looked eighteen. "You haff good taste in vomen."

"Thanks," Harry called back, smiling. Hermione made her way over to him, looking a bit wary at the prospect of another dance. He couldn't blame her.

"Ello, Arry," she greeted him throatily, imitating Fleur.

"Oh, don't tell me you saw that."

"Yep," she smirked. "Don't worry, you could've looked like more of an idiot. At least your mouth wasn't gaping."

"I guess, yeah." They took a few dances off, simply drinking in both some butterbeer and atmosphere. Professor McGonagall, to their great amusement, had followed her own advice: She'd literally let her hair down after downing a few Firewhiskeys, and was now attempting to persuade Snape, of all people, to dance with her. His face suggested he'd rather eat a Blast Ended Skrewt.

Finally, Hermione pulled Harry to his feet. "Come on, we should dance to at least a couple more songs." He noticed she used a similar tone of voice to convince him and Ron to just write one or two more paragraphs before they quit on an assignment. "Now, just follow my lead," she advised. "If I move left, you move right. If I move back, you move forward. But don't look at my feet to see where I'm going or you'll get mixed up. And…"

Harry was reminded rather strongly of the first time he'd traveled by Floo Powder. The Weasleys had bombarded him with tips on what to do, and he'd ended up lost down Knockturn Alley. He placed a hand on her arm. "Hermione…relax," he said gently. "I think I'll be okay. Just lead me. The next one's supposed to be a slower song, so we don't have to worry about moving too much, right?"

She blushed. "Yeah. Sorry, I'm sounding like a professor." Still, she _did _want the dance to go well, even if "going well" only meant not getting stepped on at all for the rest of the affair._ "But how do I get through to Harry?" _her brow furrowed. _"Use what he knows, what he's good at," _she decided. That was normally an effective teaching strategy.

"Look, forget everything I said before." He rolled his eyes. She saw and smacked him lightly on the arm. "Now, just imagine we're flying. And I'm in front of you. And you're trying to catch me. So you have to follow me."

"Err…okay," he shrugged.

To his immense surprise, and Hermione's relief, her idea worked. He was following her steps easily, even with his eyes focused only on her face.

"This is nice," she smiled. She had her hands around his neck, and she pulled him in a bit closer.

"Yeah." Had he just admitted that the Yule Ball was nice? Or that being like this with Hermione was nice? And more importantly, which one of those things was her "this" referring to?

The two of them glanced around the room to avoid looking quite so much like a couple, seeing as they weren't one. Harry's eyes fell on Ron. He'd been having a decent time with Padma earlier, had even danced for a while with the girl. Now, however, a scowl was fixed on his face, and it seemed to be directed at them.

After a few more songs, the ball began winding down. As the band's alcohol consumption increased, the quality of performance dropped. A bit before 11:30, Harry and Hermione decided to call it a night and exited the Great Hall. "Want to grab some food?" she asked. "I'm famished."

"Aren't you worried that the house elves might be overworked, Hermione?" he teased.

"Shut up." She playfully shoved him. "Oh, and let's try and find Ron, see if he wants to join us in the common room…"

"Finally remembered me, have you?" his voice came from behind them. Sure I won't ruin your_ date_?" he asked snidely, venom dripping off the end of his question.

"It wasn't a date." Harry wheeled around.

"It was just dancing, Ron. We had a bit of fun, that's all. What's your problem?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, just dancing," he mocked her, putting air quotes around the words in question. "Sure. Yeah. Bet that's what everyone else thought as well."

"Ron, just because…" Hermione started.

"Hermione…" Harry tried to cut her off.

Ron laughed sharply. "No, let her talk. I reckon I want to hear this."

That set her off. "You don't have the right to talk shit to me. It's not my fault Harry had the decency to ask me to the ball with some kindness, even if it was a bit weird-"

"You know he only asked you cause Cho turned him down, right?" Ron interjected. "Wasn't like you were his first choice."

"Be that as it may, he showed me a hell of a better time than you could have dreamed of doing if you were in his shoes. Not that you'd ever be in his shoes, anyway, since we all know that you, unlike Harry, couldn't muster up the courage to ask me in the first place!" She stormed off up the staircase.

Harry felt like punching Ron wouldn't be the worst idea right now. Still, he would be plenty pissed at them already. No reason to make it worse.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Aren't you going to go after her?" Ron asked sarcastically, pointing up the stairs.

For once, his antics had left Harry without sympathy. "Yeah, I am. And Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Go fuck yourself."

He found Hermione crying quietly, curled up on the largest couch in the common room. She'd discarded the dress in favor of plaid pajama pants and a gray hoodie. He changed, as well. The dress robes had become uncomfortable. He came back down in sweatpants and a black t-shirt.

"Sorry he's an idiot." Harry wrapped his arms around her.

"I kn-know…Sh-shouldn't let it get to me." She blew her nose loudly. "It's just…tonight was so great, y'know?" She regarded Harry with tear stained eyes. "Better than…A _lot _better than I thought it'd go, no offense. And then he absolutely wr-wrecks it."

"Yeah…Well, he's not here now."

An unsteady laugh came out. "No, luckily, he isn't."

"And yes," Harry wiped a tear off Hermione's cheek, "Tonight was great." He hesitated. "_You _were great."

"Thanks, Harry." She smiled at last. "So were you…after the first ten minutes." She laughed harder.

"Me!" he exclaimed. "That was not _all _my fault, you didn't know those songs either."

"Okay, okay, I'll take…30% of the blame for us being a total mess, I suppose," she chuckled.

"Right, then, how do I make up for the other 70 percent?" he asked.

The clock chimed. It was midnight.

"Well, you could start by wishing me a happy Christmas," she offered, leaning in closer.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione."

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

The clock struck one-Their lips met again, still gentle, still cautiously exploring.

Two-Harry opened his mouth the tiniest bit and felt Hermione's teeth graze his lower lip.

Three-Like at the dance earlier, Hermione led the movement, tilting her head like she was preparing to make a sharp turn on a broomstick. Harry followed.

Four-Their tongues finally got properly acquainted. And Harry had thought her lips were warm! That heat froze in comparison to this tasty fire.

Five-The lack of oxygen broke them apart.

Six-Their mouths reunited, starving for company.

Seven-More hungry kisses that did nothing for their empty stomachs but stunned the rest of their senses.

Eight-They were horizontal on the couch. Another shattered kiss, this one cut off by words-When was the last time they'd used those? Felt like ages ago. "You are gorgeous," he breathed into her ear.

Nine-Hermione's mouth raced along Harry's neck like a niffler searching for treasure.

Ten-At last, they discovered nourishment: The salty sweat of each other's skin.

Eleven-Another slightly less than chaste kiss, interlocking fingers, a muffled question from Harry: "What is this?"

Twelve-Hermione's answer, layered with contentment, sensuality, and a few other things he'd probably come to like about her: "This is brilliant. Nice and brilliant."


	6. Happy Christmas?

The clock stopped chiming, and they eventually pulled apart, with half hearted murmurs of "It's late" and "Really should be getting to bed."

"Night, Harry. Thanks for…everything. I had a fun time," she said warmly, trying to fix her hair a bit.

"Night. See you tomorrow, Hermione."

For the first time in his four years at Hogwarts, Harry was not woken up by Ron's exuberant cry of "PRESENTS!" on Christmas morning. He showed about as much interest in Harry and Hermione as he would a flobberworm that day. Despite Ron's recent actions, they'd hoped he'd be in a better mood on the holiday, and they could have a normal Christmas, but no such luck.

Later on, after a late lunch, Harry accosted Fred and George when he spotted them putting Stink Pellets in a suit of armor on the first floor. "Look, can you two please try to talk some sense into Ron?" he got right to the point. "He's being a prat, whenever Hermione or I try to deal with him, it goes totally wrong…I think he'd at least consider listening to you."

The twins regarded him with raised eyebrows. "You don't know what's eating him?"

Harry nodded, jaw clenched. "Yeah, I went to the Yule Ball with Hermione, big deal. Apparently I was supposed to magically _know _he wanted to go with her…" He gave a frustrated sigh.

"Now, Harry, don't take this the wrong way, but you're not always the brightest bulb," George's tone was serious, but, as usual, he was grinning. Pretty much anything he said was at least partially a joke. "But blimey, I'm surprised Hermione hasn't picked up on it!"

"On what?"

"Why, ickle Ronniekins is jealous!" Fred crowed, clutching his stomach as he laughed.

"Of what?" Harry still didn't get it. "The Yule Ball's come and gone, just one dance, what's it matter?" he asked indignantly.

"Oi, get your brain checked, Potter." Fred rapped his knuckles across Harry's forehead. "I'll spell it out for ya: Ron. Likes. Hermione."

"Why do you think he's always taking the mickey outta her?" George asked.

"And now that she's your girlfriend…well, he's not handling it too well, as you may have noticed," Fred smirked.

"She's…she's not my girlfriend!" Harry sputtered out a protest.

The twins exchanged a look.

"Come off it!" they chorused. "You must've at least snogged a couple times?"

Harry's face went pink.

Fred and George shared a look of delight.

"It's nice being right, isn't it, Fred?" George asked.

"Quite delightful, I do declare," Fred replied merrily.

"So yeah, that's what pissing Ron off so much," George finished. He clasped his hands to his chest and adopted a mock dramatic tone. "His poor little heart…shattered into a million pieces…" His monologue dissolved into laughter after a few seconds.

Harry laughed, but the dilemma was still there. What could make Ron less angry? "Look, could you tell him…"

"To stop being a prat?" George suggested.

"To get over it?" Fred supplied.

Harry laughed. "Well…yeah. In nicer terms, if you can manage it."

They threw him a salute. "Aye, aye, sir!"

"Thanks, thank you so much," he smiled gratefully.

"No problem," Fred answered brightly. "Sometimes, only Weasleys can sort each other out." They deposited the last Stink Pellet into the suit and left. "Say, when we get more of these, want to try to feed one to Mrs. Norris?" George asked.

"Definitely," Fred grinned. "I'd say…in return for our wonderful help, lending us your Invisibility Cloak to feed Mrs. Norris a special treat wouldn't be out of the question as a repayment, would it, Harry?"

"Nah, that'd be fine, just let me know when you wanna do it." He certainly wouldn't mind seeing Filch's cat in a bit of distress. The twins went off down the second floor to perhaps make more mischief, while Harry kept climbing stairs to the common room.

"Happy Christmas!" they all called to each other as they split up.

George smirked and winked. "Oh, and say hi to Hermione for us."

As Harry entered the common room, Ron exited. Hermione was sitting on the couch, her face flushed.

"So…" Harry didn't know what to say.

"He's being a bit more civil, at least," she sighed. She looked up at Harry. "Can we go somewhere to talk?" she asked quietly. "Alone?" With the Yule Ball and the excitement of the Triwizard Tournament, the common room was unusually crowded during this particular Christmas Day.

"Sure," he murmured. After last night, everyone was staring at the pair as if they'd sprouted two heads each. "Cloak. Broom. Pitch." He whispered. She nodded. He went back to his room, held his Firebolt tight to his chest, and threw his Invisibility Cloak on with his free hand, then slowly walked back down the stairs and out of the room, undetected. A few minutes later, he and Hermione were walking out the doors of the Great Hall. She did her Warming Spell again, and they were off to the Quidditch pitch.

"Good choice," Hermione nodded. "I could do with getting away from people right now."

"You don't say?" Even being with Hermione couldn't completely alleviate his sour mood. He sighed. "Just once, it would be nice if things in my life were normal, y'know? Like this…this sneaking around, just to get a bit of time together, you shouldn't have to put up with it."

"I'm not complaining right now, Harry." She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his back. "But, yes," she admitted. "I imagine Rita Skeeter will have a field day with us." She sat up, curiosity piqued by her own statement. "What is 'us,' anyway? Are we…together, friends, a bit of both? I'm not really sure. And I'm not sure what I want, either," she confessed.

He slowed the broom down a great deal-didn't need another Hermione related mishap, especially with her onboard this time-and turned around. "I…I don't know either," he said quietly. "I don't really know how this started. I mean…nothing against you, but when I asked you to the ball, it was strictly as friends, just cause I needed a date." She nodded. "But then, I thought about it more, you know, cause everyone was talking about it. And I realized…" He paused, wanting very much to find the right words. "I realized I couldn't find a downside to going with you. I mean…you're my best friend, you're usually nice, you're witty, you're funny-"

"Only USUALLY nice?!" She snapped, but it was a joke. "Watch your mouth, or I may have reason to knock you off your broom."

"Okay, almost always nice," he laughed. "And you're really attractive." He smiled. "Really…what more could I have asked for?"

Hermione kissed him. "Thank you," she whispered.

"It's just…" she tugged at her coat. "I don't know what I'd do without you. If we…"

Her chocolate eyes finished the sentence for her. "I know," he nodded. "I'd…I'd go mad without you," he answered honestly.

"So…just friends, then?" she asked.

He nodded. "Just friends who-" He initiated this kiss.

"Do this-" Second.

"In private." Third time's the charm.


	7. Getting Somewhere

Over the next few weeks, Harry found it nearly impossible to keep his mind (or hands) on Hermione at all, what with exams, interview requests from Rita Skeeter (or, more accurately, dodging said requests), and the increasingly worrisome prospect of solving the egg puzzle all bearing down on him. He had, per Cedric's advice, managed to open the thing during his time in the Prefects' bathroom, but still had little idea how he'd ever survive underwater long enough to do…whatever it was he'd have to do. Save something or someone, apparently, an act he wasn't entirely unfamiliar with.

He now spent more and more time burning candle wicks down to nubs in the library, cursing in his head so Madam Pince wouldn't have reason to throw him out. "There's gotta be something," he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

"Let's take a break," Ron (who had grown much more tolerant of the idea of Harry and Hermione being together-possibly as a result of his spending more time in Luna's oddly mellow presence) suggested, his own eyes red as the binding on the tome "_Wizards and Water."_

"Might not be a bad idea," Hermione conceded. "It would be so much easier if you had someidea what you _needed, _Harry, something concrete, a specific thing…"

"Well, I don't," he retorted. "We've already gone over what the egg said. There's not anything more to draw from that."

She opened her mouth and shut it quickly. "Sorry," she hissed, her tone chilly, devoid of remorse. "Just trying to help."

"I know…" he sighed. "It's just…Ron's right, I think we need a break, take another crack at it tomorrow."

"Right. Goodnight." Hermione turned her back on the pair, cloak swishing, as she ascended the staircase to the girls' dormitory.

"Hey, y'know how Fred and George were planning to feed those Stink Pellets to Mrs. Norris?" Ron asked, trying to diffuse the tense situation.

"Yeah."

"Well, turns out they managed to slip her a Dungbomb instead," he laughed. "They only just got away from Filch, said they found a broom closet to hide in on the seventh floor."

Harry frowned. "A broom closet?" One of the first times going to Divination last year, he'd gotten lost on that floor, and it didn't seem to be anything but a long hallway with a few empty classrooms.

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "Lucky it was there, wasn't it? Needed a hiding spot, and they found one."

"Yeah…" Harry's mind jumped back to a conversation he'd had with Dumbledore at the Yule Ball, about how, when he'd urgently required a bathroom, he'd unwittingly stumbled upon a room full of chamber pots on the seventh floor. "_It's like it's there when you need something specific_," he realized. He made his way back down the staircase.

Ron's eyebrows knitted together. "Where you going?"

"Gotta ask Dumbledore about something," Harry called. He dashed down the hall when an icy chill overwhelmed his body. "Oh, sorry, Nick!" He shivered-Walking through a ghost was none too pleasant.

"No problem, Mr. Potter. Occupational hazard of being a ghost." He frowned. "Where are you off to at such a late hour?"

"I'm looking for Professor Dumbledore."

"Well, he retires rather early. Perhaps you could try tomorrow, unless it's a truly urgent matter," Nick advised.

"Yeah, s'pose so," Harry muttered. A sudden hope lit his green eyes up. "Say, Nick, ever heard of a room in Hogwarts that sort of…shows up when you need it?"

"Yes, I have, actually," he nodded. "Just came across it again the other night. I was floating around the seventh floor when the Bloody Baron came by…" he shuddered and his head dropped to his collar. He reattached it. "Sorry. Anyway, I didn't want to see him, so I stepped through a door Normally, he goes out of his way to make life miserable for every other ghost. Strangely, he couldn't get in, which was precisely what I wanted," Nick beamed.

"D'you know what it's called?"

"I believe it's named The Room of Requirement." The ghost stroked his chin. "_Hogwarts, A History, _could tell you more about it, I'm sure."

"Right, sure," Harry smiled. "Thanks loads, Nick."

"Glad to be of service, Harry," the ghost replied, drifting down the hallway as Harry made his way back to the portrait hole.

The next day, over breakfast, Harry asked Hermione something he never thought he would.

"Could I borrow your copy of _Hogwarts, A History?" _

Her spoon clattered to the floor. Ron looked like someone had cast a Confundus Charm on him. "You want to borrow that?" they chorused.

"I need to figure out how to get into a room." He explained his conversation with Nick and outlined his suspicions that, should he prove to truly need a book about how to breathe underwater, he would…

"Find one there, for sure," he finished.

"Not a bad idea, mate. Could be faster than digging through the library," Ron commented.

"That's…that's quite logical, Harry." Hermione flashed him a full smile. "I'll get it to you after breakfast, then."

"Thanks."

He gathered up his books in his dormitory and started down the stairs. Until Hermione met him halfway, that is.

"Anyone up there?" she asked, craning her neck, eyes peering over his shoulder.

"No."

"Well, then," she whispered, pushing the book into Harry's chest, urging him to backpedal, "I can give you a rather special delivery, can't I?"

At last, after three and a half too many weeks, they kissed again. Harry basked in the closeness, in having Hermione wrapped up in his arms, loving it when his tongue elicited a low, throaty moan from the witch. They paused, pulling away from each other, just a bit.

"I've missed this," she murmured, trying fruitlessly to make his shock of black hair sit flat.

"Me too. "But it has been…"

"Easier, yes," she admitted. "In _some_ ways. In others…" Hermione pressed her forehead to his before starting another kiss… "Not so much."

"I know," he sighed, dragging his feet away.

"I've got to go to Ancient Runes." Her lips burned his cheek. "Get that book back to me later?"

"Special delivery all right?" he asked, grinning like an idiot.

"It would be preferable." She left, and Harry, too, made his way down to the portrait hole. He had a fair bit of spare time before Herbology, and hustled up a couple trick staircases to the seventh floor. He consulted the text.

"The Room of Requirement is only available to students who are in great need," he muttered. Well, surely, finding a way to not drown in the lake qualified as a great need…He read on.

"To gain access to the room, students must have a specific need in mind, and must cross in front of the wall three times."

He mulled over a few options, then thought, "_I need to find a way to complete the Second Task…I need to find a way to complete the Second Task…I need to find a way to complete the Second Task…"_

Nothing. He chose new words, trying to narrow his focus. "_I need a room with information that can tell me how to breathe underwater. I need a room with information that can tell me how to breathe underwater. I need a room with information that can tell me how to breathe underwater."_

A wooden door appeared. He lunged for the handle and yanked it open.

In the room, he found a large bookshelf on the opposite wall, along with a small pool in the middle of the floor.

He glanced over the table of the contents in one of the books. "This is brilliant!" Chapters included: "How to Breathe Underwater: Spells for Beginners," "Useful Potions for Water Travel," and "Magical Herbs, Fungi, and More."

He'd definitely have to come back and have a go in that pool, but for now, Harry sprinted down the steps: He was going to be late for Herbology.


End file.
